The Immortals of Myrdwyer

by Brian Kittrell

  “Yes, I would like that very much.” Brice returned to her, took her hand, and kissed it. “Farewell. Until we meet again.”

  Once through the door, Brice heard it close behind him, and he walked along the wide boulevard toward the palace, unable to keep the smile off his face.

  * * *

  “That was an extraordinary tale, if I may say so myself. What a horrible man that Harridan must have been.” Jurgen wiped his mouth with a linen and placed his cup on a nearby table. “I do not claim to know the truth of all things, but I feel that you were right to do what you did.”

  Laedron nodded. “The spells in that book were something men were never meant to discover, I think.” He glanced at Marac and Valyrie. “My friends had to remind me of that, and I’m eternally thankful.”

  “Of course they did.”

  Raising his eyebrow, Laedron didn’t know if Jurgen meant to insult him or if he had something else to say.

  Jurgen seemed to notice Laedron’s cold stare. “I’m sorry if I offended. I meant that, being a sorcerer, you’re prone to an insatiable curiosity, and sometimes sorcerers must be saved from themselves.”

  “You know other sorcerers?”

  “No, no, but I’ve been studying the subject since you left. With the wealth of knowledge you held about our kind, I thought I might learn a bit about yours. It’s only fair, isn’t it?”

  “I suppose.”

  “The path to tolerance is paved by a mutual respect and understanding. Without them, our church and your Circle can never exist side by side.” Jurgen grinned. “If I make that first step, perhaps others of my ilk will follow.”

  “Thank you,” Laedron said, turning when he heard footsteps. “Ah, Brice. Did you accomplish… whatever it is you wanted to accomplish?”

  Brice nodded.

  Laedron stood. “Good. We would stay longer, but everything in my being desires nothing more than to return home to see my family again. We have one more stop to make, then we’ll be on our way westward.”

  “I shouldn’t have been so selfish as to hold you for so long, young man.” Jurgen put his arm around Laedron’s shoulders, walking him toward the entry foyer. “Anytime you wish to return, you are free to do so. Not just free, but welcome.”

  “I never thought I’d say this.” Laedron’s voice cracked, and he choked on the words. “Never imagined that I’d be proud to call a priest ‘friend.’”

  “The wounds will take some time to heal, but they will. They will.” Jurgen opened the door. “May the Creator watch over you on your journey home.”

  Valyrie grabbed Jurgen, embracing him. “It could be a long time before I see you again. You’ve always been such a good friend to our family, and it pains me to know that I may never come back to visit.”

  Jurgen wiped the tear from her cheek. “You may come and pay me a visit anytime you like. So long as this old body draws breath, I’ll be here for you whenever you may need me, Valyrie.”

  She nodded, and stepping away, she drew her sleeve across her nose and sniffled. “Goodbye.” She looped her arm under Laedron’s and walked beside him.

  Outside, Marac tapped Laedron on the shoulder. “One more stop?”

  “I thought we might visit our fellow conspirators, Piers and Caleb.”

  “Oh, yes. Of course.”

  * * *

  When they arrived, the door of the Shimmering Dawn headquarters stood open. Laedron figured that Piers had gotten many more recruits because the place bustled with activity, a number of new men with unfamiliar faces going about their various duties. I wonder if I shall be able to find the man amongst all these people. After wrapping his horse’s reins around the post outside, he crossed the threshold, then ambled about the front room.

  “You’re back!” Caleb ran to the end of the landing above them, turned at the stairs, and skipped two steps at a time coming down. “In one piece, no less. Wel—”

  Caleb hit the floor, and Brice stood above him, shaking his fist. “That’s for the lock.”

  Caleb massaged the side of his face. “The lock? What lock?”

  “The trapped lock you gave me. Don’t pretend like you don’t remember.”

  “You picked it?”

  “Oh, yes!” Brice bobbed his head, his ears turning red. “I picked it, all right. Stuck me in the finger, and the soreness still hasn’t gone away.”

  Caleb, taking Marac’s hand and standing, shook his head. “I suppose I deserve that one. Do the rest of you want to take a swing at me while we’re at it?”

  “You haven’t done any wrong to me, but don’t try anything.” Marac folded his arms, then laughed. “I’ve never seen Thimble so mad in all my life, so I have to thank you for that one.”

  “It wasn’t funny,” Brice said.

  “So says you.”

  “Now that that’s settled…” Laedron glanced between the three of them. “Could you tell Piers that we’ve come to bid him farewell?”

  “Piers!” Caleb yelled toward the upper level. Subtle as always. I could’ve done that.

  Piers strolled into view on the upper level. When he reached the edge, he put his hands on the railing, and although he opened his mouth to speak, he stopped when he saw Laedron and his companions. Piers descended the staircase and shook Laedron’s hand, then exchanged handshakes with the others. “I can’t tell you how much we appreciate everything you’ve done for us. We’re well on our way to getting the order back to where it needs to be.”

  “You did your part the same as we did,” Laedron said.

  “What brings you back to Azura? More Zyvdredi plots?”

  I could go the rest of my life without hearing the word Zyvdredi again. “No, we’ve come to say farewell. As soon as we’re able, we’ll be off to Balfan to seek passage back to the Midlands.” Never have I uttered sweeter words. The Midlands and Sorbia, at long last.

  “You won’t stay a while? Can we get you anything? Food? Drink?”

  “No, but I appreciate the offer. We only wanted to see you one last time before departing.”

  “In that case, take care of yourselves. Take word with you to Sorbia to the knights of Westmarch Keep. Tell them there that the Azura Chapter is prepared for whatever may come.”

  Westmarch. Victor and Meklan. I had nearly forgotten. Laedron nodded. “I will. Since we’ll have no use for them, do you have need of our horses?”

  “Horses? Of course. I’ll have one of my men accompany you and bring them back when you’re done with them.”

  “No need. We’ll hire a coach from here.” Laedron shook Piers’s hand again. “Best of luck to you.”

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  The Knights of Westmarch

  Favorable winds and a quick ship brought Laedron and his companions from Balfan to Calendport, then a stagecoach carried them through Pendlebridge, across the Great Winding River, and toward Westmarch. Cresting the final hill before the city, Laedron leaned forward and gazed out the window. Funny how those walls seem so welcoming now, whereas they once had been the most frightening thing I’d ever seen. It feels like it’s been more than a month—more like a whole lifetime—since I’ve walked upon friendly soil, breathed Sorbian air, and had no cause to constantly look over my shoulder for enemies at my back.

  He watched Valyrie, sensing her anxiety. Now, she must feel the same as I did. “Everything all right?”

  She nodded, but he knew something was off and tried to comfort her. “You have nothing to worry about.”

  “Nothing to worry about?” she asked. Oh, dear. What have I started? “I have everything to worry about.”

  “Like what? Perhaps I can help.”

  Brice and Marac, opposite them, turned their heads to the nearest window and acted as if they weren’t paying attention, but Laedron noticed the gesture and knew what they were doing. Like only true friends would.

  “I’m nervous about being so far from home… home.” Bowing her head, s
he hid her tears. “I don’t have a home anymore.”

  “Sure you do. You’ll share a home with us in Reven’s Landing.”

  She sniffled. “What if your mother doesn’t like me? What if your sister hates me at first sight?”

  Of all the things I didn’t want to imagine… but why would they? “They won’t, Val. I think you’re worrying for nothing.”

  “How do you know, Lae? How could you possibly know their minds?”

  “Because I know Ma and Laren well. They couldn’t turn you away.”

  “Of course they can. Why do you think they can’t?”

  He smiled. “How could a mother hate the woman her son loves? How could a sister—without any cause or reason—despise her brother’s soul mate? You have a face and a heart that could light up the entire world should the sun ever fail to shine, Val. I think you’re needlessly troubling yourself.”

  “Do you really believe that? Or are you just saying that to cheer me up?”

  “I believe it.” He took her hand and squeezed it.

  The coach stopped short of the gate, and as he’d witnessed the last time he’d visited Westmarch, the guards inspected their wagon and peered through the windows at them.

  “They run things tighter in Sorbia, eh?” Valyrie asked. “In the theocracy, carts and wagons might receive a passing glance if the driver is steering recklessly. They search everything here before allowing it to enter?”

  “As far as I know.” Laedron rested his head in his hand. “I should say that I’ve never seen it done any other way.”

  When the troops seemed satisfied, the guard captain gestured for the coach to proceed. Laedron heard the crack of the reins, then gazed through the window at Westmarch. He had never met the people walking the roads, but a feeling of kinship swept over him. Every business and house felt like his own, as if he could enter any of those buildings and feel at home. He was home, at long last.

  His eyes widened when he saw the little alley that led toward Ismerelda’s house. He couldn’t take his eyes off of it until it was obscured from view. I’ll have to visit while I’m here.

  The coach ground to a halt, and the driver hopped down from his seat, jogged to the side of the cab, and opened the door. “Westmarch Keep.”

  “Thank you for everything,” Laedron said, tipping the man an extra sovereign. A driver like that deserves a bonus. Quick, knowledgeable of the routes, and efficient.

  “I wonder what he’ll think when he sees us again.” Brice donned his backpack, then dusted off his clothes.

  “Who?” Laedron asked.

  “Meklan Draive, of course. Who else?”

  “I thought you might be referring to Victor.”

  “Why would I? I barely saw the man when we were here.”

  Laedron gestured at the arched entry, the huge double doors left open. “No matter. We’ll find neither of them out here in the streets.”

  They entered the keep, and the same way they had last time, Marac and Brice ran off toward the east wing, obviously eager to see their mentor again. Laedron was left with Valyrie in the great hall, where she stared in wonder at the fine tapestries, decorative swords, sets of armor, and crests hanging on the walls.

  He noticed the lack of students and the quiet in every passage. They must have stopped taking recruits when the war ended. “The mages study in the opposite end, and that’s where we’ll likely find Victor.”

  “What kind of man is he, Lae?”

  “Hard to say. He’s a right and proper sorcerer, but we never had a personable relationship when I trained here. He was kind and willing to answer any questions I had, but to say that we were friends would be stretching it.”

  “Then, why come here? Why not move on to Reven’s Landing?”

  “I’m still a knight of the order, and since they set us on a mission, I must at least report that we’ve succeeded in our task. After that, I’m sure that they’ll release us and allow us to return home, for the war is over.” He followed the corridors as he had weeks ago, finding Victor’s office with little trouble. He knocked on the closed door, and hearing an invitation to enter, he opened it.

  “Yes?” Victor asked, his eyes locked on the parchment upon which he continued to write.

  “We’ve come to—”

  Victor dropped his quill and looked up. “A familiar voice. Has our clever apprentice returned from abroad?”

  “Yes, Master Altruis. It is I, Laedron Telpist, and we have accomplished our mission.”

  Victor stood and walked around his desk. “I heard you did much more than that. Never have I had a pupil achieve so much for our order. And without instructions, no less.” He paused and turned to Valyrie, as if he had just noticed her standing there. He bowed and extended his hand. “Forgive me, Miss, for forgetting my manners.”

  She must not have known what Victor wanted because she stood there staring at him. Laedron gestured for her to offer her hand.

  When she did so, Victor kissed the back of it, then stood upright. “Might I know your name?”

  “Valyrie Pembry, my lord.”

  “And you are a friend of our prodigal pupil?”

  “I am, and a student of his, I might add.”

  “And he’s become a teacher of mages, too?” Victor smiled. “Any friend of his is an ally of ours.”

  Laedron asked, “What exactly have you heard about the things that I’ve done?”

  “The news of Gustav’s death came first, and we knew it had to be you because the witnesses reported seeing a mage throwing spells in the streets. We waited, but no more word came about you after that. When we heard about Tristan’s demise, we suspected you were involved, and our suspicions were confirmed when the Azura chapter—Master Piers, to be specific—sent us correspondence detailing what had passed there.

  “You’ve rid the world of Gustav and Andolis Drakkar, returned the church to more… receptive mentalities, and saved many lives, young man. You’re to be commended.”

  “Did Piers speak of the Zyvdredi assassins? Of the Drakkars’ true natures?”

  “Zyvdredi?” Victor’s eyes widened. “Are you certain?”

  “Beyond the shadow of a doubt.”

  “No, he said nothing of the like. That explains many things, though.”

  “It does? What sort of things?”

  “Inconsistencies in his writings and holes in his explanations. If he didn’t divulge that information, it must have been because he was confident you would succeed.”

  “If you had known, what would you have done differently?”

  “Most likely, we would’ve gathered our best mages, all of them that we could find, Shimmering Dawn or not, and come upon Azura with a fury the likes of which have been unseen since the Great War.”

  “Then, it’s better that he kept his silence, I think.”

  “Truly? We would’ve made short work of the Zyvdredi and probably spared you a great deal of trouble.”

  “At what cost? A battle such as you describe would have wrought destruction of epic proportions upon the city. With what little I know of Piers, I think he wanted to prevent as much suffering as possible.”

  “You’re probably right. If we had come, I doubt that we could have avoided anything other than open confrontation in the streets.”

  Laedron nodded. “I’m just glad that it’s over and we have returned home in one piece. Have you heard of any other happenings?”

  “Beyond the war, no. We’ve had little time to pay attention to anything else.”

  “Good.” Laedron turned toward the door. “Thank you, Master Altruis. If you’ll excuse us, we plan to return to Reven’s Landing.” Well, after a quick visit to Ismerelda’s house, of course.

  “You’re leaving? But why?”

  “We’ve completed our mission—and then some—and now, we want to see our families. I’m sure you understand.”

  “Yes, but you can’t. Not yet, anyway.”

  Laedron narrowed his eyes. “And why is that? Have we not d
one enough for the order?”

  “You may not have noticed, but you’re famous for your actions, Laedron Telpist. You’re a hero.”

  “And? Can heroes not go home after they have performed their heroic deeds?” He didn’t agree about being a hero, but he wanted to impress a point that Victor could easily understand.

  “Yes, but not yet.” Victor pulled a letter from his desk and handed it to Laedron. “Have a look.”

  As if a piece of paper will change my mind , he thought, sighing. He read the letter:

  Victor Altruis, Master Sorcerer of the Knights of the Shimmering Dawn,

  It has come to our attention that one under your charge, Laedron Telpist, and his party had been dispatched with a mission to the Heraldan Theocracy. We have been made aware that his efforts have stopped a plot to plunge the entire world into conflict, a plot set in motion by Zyvdredi masters. If you should be in contact with Master Telpist or his companions, you are ordered henceforth and without delay to bring them to us in the city of Morcaine.

  Kelrick Ambriset, Chamberlain to His Majesty King Xavier II of Sorbia

  Laedron’s hand dropped to his side, the paper still crinkling between his fingertips. “What do they want with us?”

  “The letter doesn’t say, but I can only imagine that they want to speak to you and reward you for all that you’ve done. ‘Tis a mandate from the king, and as loyal subjects, we must heed his call.”

  “It would seem that I have little choice in the matter. When do we leave?”

  “Little choice? Of all the people I’ve ever met, you seem to care the least about being praised for what you’ve accomplished.”

  Laedron returned the letter. “I did none of it for rewards or praise. When I fought Gustav, I did it for revenge, to bring death to my teacher’s killer. It was by happenstance that our goals aligned, Master Altruis, and when I saw the light leave his eyes, praise and reward were the last things on my mind.

  “Our work done, we convinced Vicar Jurgen to take us to Azura, to aid us in defeating Andolis and bringing about peace. We did that to save lives and to right wrongs, not with hopes of receiving piles of gold, lands, or titles. So when you say that we should be rewarded, I can’t help but think that we deserve nothing.”